


Decay

by Mushroom



Category: xxxHoLic
Genre: Amnesia, Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-05
Updated: 2012-09-05
Packaged: 2017-11-13 14:55:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/504711
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mushroom/pseuds/Mushroom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Forgetting, not remembering, is the inevitable outcome of all experience.” – Geoffrey Sonnabend, Obliscence: Theories of Forgetting and the Problem of Matter</p>
            </blockquote>





	Decay

A world where Watanuki Kimihiro is free and happy, a sixteen-year-old boy without the burden of a thousand years of folklore, vengeful spirits, ancestors—where he wakes up and greets his father and hugs his mother and a dons a newly-ironed uniform, future ready and waiting—

With eyes closed but joyful, without heightened senses, without pain—

It makes perfect sense.

That was what Doumeki Shizuka told himself every day.

 

*

 

He stopped himself from saying hi.

Doumeki never really greeted people openly. Only to his superiors, or to newly-acquainted strangers, though that was out of habit, really. But for the very first time in his life Doumeki desperately wished to be acknowledged; sometimes he would stare at the back of Watanuki’s head, without really meaning to, and he had to tear his eyes away, afraid that he would notice. Yet he wanted to be noticed, wanted it so badly that his teeth ached and his stomach complained and he found himself doing really ridiculous things just to get Watanuki's attention.

Like being there when Watanuki dropped something, only to pick it up and feel Watanuki’s fingers, for a split-second.

Like watching him eat with his friends, lurking behind walls and posts and crowds of people.

Like following him home, eager to protect, a responsibility long diminished.

Like a love-struck schoolgirl, only Doumeki must have been lovesick, because whenever saw Watanuki he closed his eyes and the world throbbed around him.

One time Watanuki carelessly dropped his handkerchief—he and his friends were fooling around, pushing and laughing and having a good time—and Doumeki picked it up and brought it to his lips. It smelled kitchen-like, something vaguely like honey. His knees weakened and he felt his throat burn, Watanuki’s handkerchief arresting his groan. He rushed to the comfort room, pale and sweating, and washed his mouth furiously on the sink.

Doumeki looked up and saw dark veils under ugly eyes. His fingers tightened on Watanuki's handkerchief, soiled and speckled with his own vomit. He could not bear to return it then.

 

*

 

Doumeki gazed skywards. It was a slow day; the clouds were moving languidly, and the weather was perfect for a nap. Doumeki stared some more as his eyelids dropped, only to be awakened by a rumbling sound from his stomach, and he belatedly realized that it was lunchtime.

Also, a girl was seated in front of him. Doumeki wondered when she arrived. He leaned against the tree trunk and glared at the heavens; the girl was beautiful, but he could not look at her. “Kunogi.”

“You should really stop tailing him.”

He shook his head, annoyed. “I’m not, I’m just worried that they’d show up—“

Himawari sighed. “Watanuki-kun is big boy now. He can take care of himself. Don’t you trust him?”

“That isn’t the issue. You know him. He always does something stupid when I’m not looking so I have to look, I have to—“

She pressed a hand against his chest, effectively stopping him, though Doumeki’s eyes made her step back almost immediately. Himawari bowed her head, and her hand fell back to her lap.

“No, Doumeki-kun. You don’t have to. Not anymore.”

A week later their homeroom teacher announced that Himawari had migrated to London with her family, and would not be returning to Japan. The whole class erupted in a unified gasp, and his classmates immediately talked amongst themselves, wondering why she never bothered to say anything about her sudden departure. Conspiracy theories were brought up, and the girls sighed dramatically, claiming they would miss her, although Doumeki did not recall seeing the girls having a lengthy conversation.

Doumeki remembered how Himawari’s smile radiated, how vacant her eyes seemed, the last time they met. Watanuki would have been so heartbroken if he saw her, if he knew. He sneaked a glance at Watanuki, who looked just as surprised as the rest of the class. When the teacher asked for silence and began the roll call, Watanuki pushed his eyeglasses further up his nose and started doodling on his notebook.

 

*

 

Doumeki wondered if it were Watanuki’s choice, if he wished for it. Sometimes he thought selfishly, thought that he could’ve been Watanuki's wish, could’ve made him happy. Sometimes he believed it with such conviction that it became the only truth in his world.

Doumeki wanted to pay a visit to the Witch and ask, but he could not find a good reason to. He knew he should have told Himawari to do so; it was obvious that she was always the brave one, but there were prices to be paid. And Doumeki believed that he had paid all that he could, that everything was taken away from him. It seemed so, most of the time.

Watanuki continued to ignore him, prompting Doumeki to make up his mind and head to the shop, only to find that it was truly gone.

Think, Shizuka. He scolded himself angrily, teeth drawing blood, This is what you wanted. So you just have to live with it.

Doumeki has always been very hungry since then. He stuffed himself with a bit of everything, only to retch afterwards, so he decided not to eat unless he was asked to. Doumeki knew he was starving for something else. His mother panicked and asked him what was wrong, and he agreed that everything was just very, very wrong.

 

*

 

“Um, excuse me, Doumeki Shizuka? Can I talk to you for a moment?”

His heart stopped. Doumeki turned around and his eyes found Watanuki looking at him with a polite smile. It took three seconds for him to nod his head once. “Do I know you?”

Doumeki took his time to really look at the other boy. Watanuki had gained a bit of weight-- wasn't all flesh and bones anymore--and his eyes were bright and attentive, not dark and jaded and glazed with false sparkles. It hit him then. Watanuki did not need him, and that was how it was supposed to be.

Watanuki scratched his nose, looking shy. “Hi. Um, I'm Watanuki Kimihiro. We're from the same class, and I know it’s really random that I'm talking to you now, but. It’s just that my friend,” he gestured vaguely with his arms, and Doumeki was relieved to see that endearing habit, “um, wanted to give you a letter, but she was too shy and since we’re in the same class…so yeah, here I am.” The bespectacled boy straightened his back and brought out a tiny envelope.

“Oh.” Doumeki said, and accepted it. Then silence. Watanuki began fidgeting, and Doumeki bit back a smile. Watanuki had always been uncomfortable when it was quiet.

It’s always the little things that never change.

“I watched your archery competition last week!” Watanuki finally said brightly, and his words were followed by praise and exclamation points that weren’t really loud—Doumeki knew he could do better than that. Doumeki pocketed the letter and looked at the stranger he loved, watched him talk, drank in his movements. He slipped back into detachment perfected through the years, which was easy because of Watanuki's awkward rambling. Somehow it seemed as if they went back in time, facing each other, sharing a beloved eye.

And then suddenly—like the idea just sprung at him at that very moment—Doumeki was overcome with the strong desire to just shut him up, to anger him, like the way they first met. Doumeki insulted him out of the blue, and he did not know why he did it but it just felt right. Oh, seeing Watanuki in such a rage for the very first time was brilliant, was beautiful; Doumeki could feel his cheeks flush at the mere memory, if only he can see it again—

Watanuki’s breath hitched when Doumeki gripped his arm, interrupting him. “You,” Doumeki breathed, eyes glaring into his intensely, “are an idiot.”

He could already see the other boy’s eyes sharpen, and raised his hands to plug his ears, preparing for the inevitable, angry, passionate yell…but Watanuki recoiled, eyes surprised and hurt, and something inside Doumeki twisted completely.

“I-I’m sorry,” Watanuki stammered, and ran out of reach.


End file.
